


Before You Slip Into Unconsciousness

by YellowBlue



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption II
Genre: Anal Sex, And Javier always gets what he wants, Arthur likes his boys relaxed and happy, Drugged Sex, Even though Johnny is high as a kite he loves the attention, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Opium, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-07 13:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowBlue/pseuds/YellowBlue
Summary: Arthur knows he's supposed to be the reasonable one. He knows he should've stopped John and Javier from ever setting foot into one of Saint Denis' famous opium houses.And yet here he is, surrounded by the white flower smoke, seeing John and Javier drift off into a world of hazy bliss and craving a different kind of pleasure than the one the opium brings.





	1. Chapter 1

 

There was something about the stupidity and unpredictable recklessness of youth that Arthur hated. It was the mess he usually ended up with whenever one of the younger members of their gang decided to act out one of their whims.

 

Sean, John, Javier, it didn't matter who it was or who's idea it was, it always ended with Arthur needing to drag them out of the situation they had gotten themselves into and it was him who was paying the price for their mess ups. The stubborn and almost childish way they went after whatever they had their eyes on that made Arthur miss at the days when it was only him, Hosea and Dutch.

 

“It's a stupid idea.” Arthur looked at Javier and John who were standing in front of him with almost identical grins on their faces. He already knew he would not be able to win this discussion. Not with the way Javier's eyes had lingered on the weathered green door that lead to one of the more sinister parts of Saint Denis and with John already counting the bills he carried in his pocket.

 

“OK then,” John replied in a nonchalant way, the grin on his face only got wider and his dark eyes glittered mischievously. "See you at camp." He tipped his hat, dismissing the older man like he and the young Mexican had just decided to have a picnic in one of the pristine and perfectly kept parks of the city, not bothering with keeping a grumpy old fool like Arthur around.

 

The young gunslinger grabbed Javier's arm and dragged him towards the door that lay hidden between barrels and stacked crates. It looked so ordinary. If Arthur wouldn't have known what lay behind it, he would have thought it was a normal back door that led to an old and dingy apartment.

 

“Have you lost the last bit of your mind, Marston? You're not doing this alone!” He shouted past them, already following the two men, because he just knew that neither of them would listen to him.

 

John's reply was instant: “I'm not alone, Javier is coming with me. Look, Arthur, we don't need you to acting as our chaperon. Just go.” It was somewhat of a relief he didn't sound like the moody, stubborn teenager the older man remembered just too well, even though he had this familiar petulant look in his dark brown eyes, visibly miffed at Arthur who was making everything difficult again.

 

Arthur suppressed the sigh that threatened to escape him. The annoyance he had felt when John had told him that he and Javier wanted to visit one of the opium dens in Saint Denis which were apparently famous for their opium and their pretty working girls was nothing compared to the exasperation he felt now when he saw the jittery excitement in both of their faces.

 

He should have stayed at their camp. Teaching Sean how to read, listening to one of Dutch's overly long and wordy speeches or maybe having a nice little fist fight with Micah, everything sounded better than having these two idiots on his hands, because both idiots were just too keen on jumping headfirst into something that Arthur knew would – as always – end in a dreadful mess for him.

 

“You're not going in there! This poison will make the last bit of your brains rot. What the hell are you two even thinking?” Arthur was hoping against hope that at least one of them would understand that their plan was careless, risky and ridiculously stupid.

 

“You don't have to come,” Javier answered dismissively, reaching for the door handle. “We're both adults. We can handle this.”

 

Arthur doubted that, but he also knew nothing would stop them. They were like children with too much freedom at their hand. Curious, reckless and thanks to the guns they were carrying around highly dangerous.

 

With a defeated sigh and a prayer to a God he didn't really believe in he pushed the two younger men towards the insignificant green door. "Don't come moaning at me when you're puking your guts out tomorrow." he grumbled, shoving Javier and John forward and over the threshold.

 

The door fell into the lock with a creak and a bang behind them, leaving the three men standing in the semi-darkness of the too small and cramped entrance area devoid of any kind of furniture and items apart from a couple of gunny sacks that were filled something that looked like sawdust and crates that were stacked against the wall.

 

A spacey room was attached to the small entrance hall; it was narrow, but long and full of nooks and crannies and bare of any kind of decoration. Chinese opium bed that looked like low ornate tables were standing on both sites of the walls; not many of them were occupied, but the few men and even fewer women were lying there in a slumber-like trance or huddled into one of the many corners or the room with blank looks in their eyes and oblivious to what was going on around them.

 

It was like he had stepped into a memory. Everything was so similar to the first time Arthur had visited one of Chicago's opium houses so many years ago. The stagnant air smelled musky and bitter like old sweat and yet there was this rich and sweet scent masking the stench, like warm honey mixed with licorice. There was also a hint of cinnamon and gloves wafting around and giving the place an exotic flair.

 

The pale rays of daylight that was streaming through the square windows gave the place a hazy and dreamlike look. It was befitting for a place like this and Arthur could already smell the soft, flowery scent of hot Opium and feel the first tingle in the tip of his fingers, but maybe that was his memory too.

 

Javier and John were silent as they looked around and took in the unfamiliar surrounding. They still had this childlike and gleeful look on their faces, but did not dare break the silence that was only interrupted by the occasional sighs, murmurs and low, muffled moans of the other patrons lying in the dark corners of the room.

 

Arthur gestured towards a middle-aged, stern looking woman who was sitting on a low chair, surrounded by pipes and other paraphernalia that one needed for preparing and smoking the small gumlike balls that was made from the sap of poppy flowers. The smell of cinnamon and gloves got stronger when they reached her. The owners of this establishment were probably mixing the spices with the whatever else was in their mixture for the small, dark balls of addictive poison.

 

The woman stayed silent, but her sharp eyes looked first at Arthur, then at the two younger gunslingers before they settled on the guns at their hips. She knew their kind, that much was obvious. It seemed that she deemed them harmless, or at least as harmless as criminals like them could be, because she gave a curt nod and gestured towards the very end of the long hall.

 

Arthur grabbed Javier by the neck before the younger could follow John who was already walking towards the spot the woman had indicated to, but stopped when he realized that the others were not following. The older man could feel his muscled tense under his grip and Javier looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and confusion.

 

“If I ever catch one of you in here ever again or in any other hell hole that sells this drug there will be hell to pay. That's a promise.” The dark blond cowboy didn't even try to hide the anger and annoyance in his voice. It was a promise Arthur intended to keep.

 

"Whatever you say. You coming?" There was this expectant glint in his eyes that had Arthur tighten the hold he had on Javier's neck, making the young man wince in discomfort.

 

The older outlaw didn't loosen his hold when he heard a pained hiss and there was an unspoken threat eminent in the way he growled the other man's name under his breath. Even if he knew that it was probably a careless promise, he wanted to have Javier's word that he would not find him here or in any of the other opium houses of the city ever again.

 

“OK!” Javier finally yelped, suppressing another wince. “I promise! I swear it's only this one time! Now stop trying to break my neck!” Javier sounded more irked than sincere, but it would have to do for now. With an irritated huff Arthur released the young Mexican who rubbed the back of his neck gingerly and gave John as sour look when he saw the grin on the other man's face.

 

The dark blond cowboy turned to the woman who busied herself with cleaning one of the used pipes, pretending not to have seen the small argument between the two men. "I'll take a couple of those." He pointed at a shelf behind the woman that held neatly stacked rows of hand-rolled cigarettes. Hosea had introduced him to these kind of cigarettes several years ago. It was tobacco was mixed with a small dosage of opium.

 

Javier gave a dismissive snort when he saw what exactly the dark blond outlaw had ordered. “Don't be a boring old bastard. C'mon, Arthur, live a little!”

 

The older man ignored him. He preferred the light rush he got from the cigarettes compared to the mellow sleepiness that came with the white opium clouds. There was also the fact that neither Javier nor John had an idea what they were getting themselves into. They didn't know what it was like to lose oneself in the mindless bliss that came with the white smoke.

 

It didn't take long until they reached the end of the long room were a couple of old and stained mattresses were lying on the floor. Even though the woman had deemed them trustworthy enough to take advantage of the services she had to offer they didn't seem to be worth the same attention and comfort the other patrons were enjoying.

 

A young girl, not older than sixteen or seventeen, suddenly appeared at their side. She was pretty with her plush red lips and her heart-shaped face, yet there was something about her that didn't sit well with Arthur and only when his eyes met hers for a split second he realized what it was. It was the anxious and tense look in her dark and somber eyes.

 

Arthur watched her as she gave Javier a shy, strained smile, tucking at his sleeve and trying to pull him towards one of the empty mattresses. She was maybe a bit too young, even for Javier, but the other didn't seem to mind and it wasn't Arthur's job to play the upholder of moral standards for any of them.

 

“You know that she'll try to rob you,” Arthur commented just loud enough that Javier could hear him, shaking his head as he watched the young Mexican follow the girl.

 

“There's nothing much to rob, my friend,” Javier replied with a grin, sitting down on one of the dusty mattresses next to her as she started to prepare the opium pipe for him.

 

An old man appeared by their side and beckoned Arthur and John forward, gesturing to one of the old and used mattresses that were lying in a small alcove opposite to where Javier and the young girl were sitting. His paper-thin skin stretched over the bones of his hands as he kneeled down and took one of the opium pipes that lay neatly stacked in one of the nearby corners. With surprisingly nimble fingers the man prepared the pipe for them, his movements were fast and efficient coming from years of practice and repetition.

 

The curious look on John's face became a confused frown when the old man got up and left them without uttering a single word. Arthur lit one of the cigarettes he had purchased, watching the old man shuffle slowly out of sight and around the corner to attend to one of the other customers.

 

With a puzzled look on his face John first glanced at Arthur then at the device in his hands, trying to work out what to do with the long pipe made of dark wood that the old man had handed him. There was no tobacco he could light, just a bulbous pot that looked a bit like a doorknob was attached to the pipe stem.

 

“Here, let me help you.” Arthur pushed John down onto the mattress, leaned over him and took hold of the wooden pipe. “You have to slowly heat it up,” he said, holding the small bowl that held the small, brown ball of opium over the flame of the opium lamp. They waited for a moment until Arthur was sure that the gumlike mass was starting to release its fumes.

 

“Now inhale. Not too fast,” he instructed John, watching him roll to his side and taking the first drag of the pipe. “That's it, slow and gentle.”

 

Arthur could see the exact moment when the drug hit John's system. The white smoke was still hanging in the air above them when he felt the young outlaw relax and lean against him, his eyes becoming vacant and drowsy.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a lot of guesswork based the bits and pieces I found about the experience of smoking opium. I'm still not sure how fast the opium kicks in and how long it takes until the person is totally dazed, but the slide into the this dreamlike, drug induced state is supposed to be gradually and pleasurable and – if the dosage is not too high- the smoker should still be aware of what's going on around them. Some of the senses are even sharpened by the drug and the sensation of touching and being touched is supposed to feel really awesome.

It was like time had stopped. There was nothing else than the white clouds of sweet smelling smoke that surrounded them and the feeling of a warm body, limber and comfortable, pressed against his own and Arthur could only watch in fascination as John slowly lost himself to the dreamlike and mellow feeling induced by the drug.

The cigarette was hissing quietly when Arthur took another drag, savoring the sweet taste of tobacco on his tongue before blowing the smoke over John's head. His eyes found Javier's who stared at him with the same blissful and drowsy expression he could see in the face of the dark haired man who was lying next to him.

The young whore with pretty red lips and hollow eyes was still in Javier's lap, her long fingers were combing through his hair as she smiled that expressionless smile that made Arthur so uncomfortable. It had the older man avoid both Javier's and her gaze. He couldn't fight the disconcerting feeling of pity when he saw the resigned and hopeless look in her eyes that told a story he didn't want to know.

The feeling of fingers against his jaw brought him back from his musings. Dark brown eyes looked up at him, soft and dulled by the effect of the opium, as John let his fingers travel over his cheek. The dark blond cowboy felt a grin tuck at the corners of his lips when he saw John lean towards him just to rub his cheek against his shirt, savoring the feeling of the washed out and rough material against his skin.

"Feelin' good, Johnny?" He drawled, ignoring the slight slur in his voice. Being engulfed by the white vapor was enough to let him feel the effect of the drug with a greater intensity than he would have with the cigarettes alone.

A groan that sounded too much like a low purr was John's only answer as his fingers skimmed over his short beard again.

Arthur had a faint memory of what it was like being under the spell of the smoke that smelled rich and bitter-sweet like smoldering flowers and burning sugar. It had been overwhelming and amazingly perfect at the same time, the smallest touch had felt like the most pleasurable sensation and every thought and concern had left his mind and floated away with the white, misty clouds.

He wondered what John was experiencing that made him reach out and touch him like this. Not that he minded the display of affection, but it made something stir inside him that he rarely bothered to acknowledge. Arthur had always been choosy with his lovers and reluctant to oblige his own desires, but the sensation of hands on his skin and the feeling of a body so close to his left him with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. It made him want to act even more stupid and reckless than both Javier and John.

The older outlaw ignored the nagging voice in the back of his mind when he put his hand on John's stomach, slipping his fingertips beneath the fabric and between the buttons of the shirt until he could feel warm skin and the gentle dip of his belly button. He found it hard to care if the desire and the pleasure that was slowly spreading through him had anything to do with the white clouds that surrounded him or just with John.

The cigarette butt Arthur's other hand was forgotten when John leaned into the touch, stretching and arching his back and looking almost like a cat basking in the heat of the sun. The older man felt his mouth go dry and he knew he should turn away from the sight, stop himself from going further. He couldn't. He didn't want to.

It was almost too good having John like this. Pliant and docile and willing to let him do whatever he wanted to do. What an idiot he'd been for allowing Javier and John to come to a place like this. Not because of the danger of addiction or the risk of getting robbed or killed, but because of how the dark haired man became like under the influence of the drug.

“Should have tossed you into the river the moment you suggested coming here,” Arthur murmured gruffly, his words lacking any conviction.

One of the shirt buttons had come loose, allowing his fingers to roam more freely over John's stomach. The skin right below the younger man's ribs was soft and warm under his fingertips and the dark blond cowboy had to close his eyes for a second, trying to ignore the hitching half-moan John made that was only feeding the gnawing ache in his belly.

“I want more.” John's words rolled over Arthur and for a moment the older man was too enthralled by the soft, dreamy look in those dark eyes and the feeling of the loose and relaxed body leaning against him to understand what the younger man meant. Only when John rolled onto his side again, his fingers closing around the pipe that was still lying next to them, he understood that it was the more of the drug he was craving.

With clumsy fingers John grabbed the pipe, struggling to keep the small pod that held the opium close to the flame of the bulbous oil lamp. Arthur leaned over him to hold the pipe steady and making it easier for him to take another hit.

The older man watched as John's dark eyes fell shut and as his tongue flicked over his lips before he closed them around the small hole at the end of the long pipe. It was beautiful in its own way, watching this slow slide into oblivion.

The moment he felt the other outlaw lean against him again – warm and heavy and numb to everything but euphoric pleasure – he pressed his mouth against John's neck, feeling the muscles in his throat work when he drew the smoke through the pipe and into his lungs.

The dark haired outlaw was slowly losing himself in the white smoke and Arthur knew he should stop and that the wrongness of it all should bother him, but he the problem was he couldn't find it in him to care anymore. John would probably not even remember the hours he had spent here in this dark, dusty room or that his brother in arms had taken the liberty to do more than just watch over him.

The sudden rush Arthur felt when he brushed the dark, dirty locks out of John's face and let his tongue slide over the slightly clammy skin of his neck was almost enough to have him forget that he should not do this, not here, not now, not with the younger man probably not even able to remember his own name. It would have been so easy to continue touching and kissing him, ignoring the looks he could feel lingering on both of them and the fact that they were not alone.

When Arthur looked up, he saw another pair of dark eyes watching them intently. It was Javier, lying on a mattress at the opposite side of the narrow hall, looking mesmerized by what he was seeing, flusterd and glassy eyed and being completely uninterested in the girl on top of him that was trying to unbutton his pants.

Arthur didn't avert his gaze this time. There was something in the eyes of the Mexican that Arthur couldn't ignore. He liked the feeling of those dark eyes on him, but it was the knowledge that Javier could see everything, that he knew what Arthur was doing with John that made him want to go further than he would have done under any normal circumstances. The dark orbs of the other man widened slightly, when the dark blond outlaw pulled John's shirt out of his pants and let his slide under the worn cotton.

John shuddered against him, the sudden sensation of hands on his oversensitive skin was too much, and Arthur could see Javier try to halt the hands of the girl. The clatter of the pipe slipping out of John's hand and rolling over the floor had him look away from Javier and into the face of the other young gunslinger. Unfocused eyes were slowly sliding shut and for a second the older man feared that something was wrong, that John had smoked too much of the drug.

“Hey, look at me,” He demanded, grabbing John's chin and turning his head towards him. The concern and worry he was feeling was overriding the pleasant buzz in his veins.

The younger blinked up at him and for a moment there was a dazed look on his face. “Morgan.” He sounded confused, like he was almost surprised to find the older man right next to him. “Arthur.” It was his first name this time, spoken with the same gravel-rough voice, but with a softer note, like he was savoring the feeling of his name on his tongue.

“You OK?” Arthur's fingers still lingered on John's chin.

“Yeah, I … “ John tried to sit up, but was stopped by Arthur's hand on his chest. He rolled onto his back, looking up at the older man and Arthur wanted to pretend that he didn't see something else that had nothing to do with the effect the drug had on him linger in those dark brown eyes. “I want more.” This time he was sure that John didn't mean the opium, not with the way his hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and tried to pull him down.

There was only a moment of hesitation before the dark blond outlaw leaned down for a kiss, coaxing the younger man's lips open with gentle licks and nips and feeling John's lips part when he let the tip of his tongue swipe over them. John's tongue met his clumsily, sluggish with the languid drugged-out daze he was in, and it was almost like he had never done this before, even though the older man knew that this could not be true. He had seen him with young, rosy-cheeked daughters of village priests as well as with whores two times his age, he even knew of several occasions when he had shared the beds of his fellow gang members. If there was something John Marston wasn't, it was inexperienced.

The wet and ungraceful slide of John's lips against his made this kiss into something delightfully new and imperfect and Arthur still couldn't find it in him to regret what he was doing. Not with John gasping against his lips and not with the way he felt under Arthur's hands; warm, willing and inviting.

Arthur could feel the supple curve of his waist and the sharp angle of his hipbone through the thin material of the pants the younger was wearing and it had him press his fingers into the skin before he let his hand wander lower and over his stomach and the inside of his thigh. This was dangerous territory. This was what he wanted.

“You would let me have you right now, wouldn't you? Even with Javier and these other people watching us?” There was something so appealing, so alluring of having John half naked and willing under him, offering something that Arthur had never considered before that it made his head spin with the mere possibility of what he could do to him.

It took a couple of seconds for John to realize what the older man had just said. His brows drew together in a confused frown as he looked at the older man, mouthing the word “Others”.

The dark blond gunslinger pointed at Javier. He only realized now that there was nobody else there except for the three of them and the young whore that had obviously given up on getting any kind of reaction out of Javier. The corner they were occupying kept them hidden from unwanted glances as long as nobody decided to use one of the empty spots close by.

John's head turned towards their fellow outlaw, his mouth falling open in a low, breathy moan when Arthur kissed his throat before he sucked a dark red bruise into the exposed skin. A pretty flush was spreading over the younger man's chest and neck, his skin prickling with goosebumps when Arthur opened the last remaining buttons on his shirt and let his hands skim over his naked chest.

The dark blond outlaw blamed it on the opium that he didn't stop when he heard gasped words of encouragement mixed with garbled curses. It was too easy to just go along with this. There was no resistance from John when Arthur's touch became less gentle, his fingertips digging into the exposed skin, leaving a line of red blotches in their wake. John only looked at him, soft and hazy brown eyes, pupils blown wide and his moist and red lips parting obediently under his own when he stole another kiss. It was almost too perfect.

“C'mon, Arthur, please. I promise I'll be good,” John slurred, his stomach muscles trembling under Arthur's hand as he spread his legs, begging with his body as well as his words. “I'll do what you say. I'll be quiet.” He sounded so needy and desperate and looked downright tempting with his pretty pink mouth and his lean body spread out next to Arthur like some sort of treat and the dark blond man wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the flushed skin.

“Don't offer me this. Not here, not now. I don't want to fuck you in the filthy backroom of an opium den, Marston.” It took every bit of willpower Arthur possessed to refuse him. It was ironically the fact that John responded to him so readily and willingly, looking and sounding not like himself, that made him come somewhat to his senses.

“You're a coward.” John's reply was accompanied by a low chuckle, a lazy smile on his lips as he watched Arthur.

The older man could only shake his head, swallowing hard when he felt John's fingers comb through his hair. “And you're and idiot. You can ask me again when you know what exactly you're asking for.”

“I know wh--” Before John could utter any kind of protest, Arthur kissed him again, hard and deep and with more force than necessary, and the young outlaw seemed to lose track of what he was thinking, his mouth going slack under his lips when the older man scratched fingernail over the seam of his pants, teasing them both.

The moan that was coaxed out of John when Arthur left a trail of kisses and small bites down his jaw and neck had a knowing smirk flicker over the older man's lips. He had already guessed that remaining quiet was not an option for the other.

“Ask me again tomorrow and I'll say yes.” His words were nothing but a rough murmur, just loud enough to be heard over John's labored breathing. “Goddammit, John, you won't even remember this tomorrow. You wouldn't want to.”

A hand on his knee stopped Arthur from saying more and to his surprise he saw Javier crawling between John's legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is a bit of a horny bastard and John is definitely willing enough, but Arthur wants him to know what he's agreeing to and he wants to make sure that John is not seeing pink unicorns on violet clouds while he's fucking him. It's a big No from Arthur, even if John might not be pleased by that.
> 
> Javier … is another story.

**Author's Note:**

> Even though I tried to do my homework about opium dens/houses in the 19th century and how smoking opium affects the body I'm sure that the whole thing is far from (historically) correct. In case you find any mistakes please provide them with a happy home and keep them. 
> 
> Furthermore, this story does not promote drug use of any kind. Drugs are bad for you, et cetera pp.


End file.
